


Tin Soldier

by Filigranka



Category: Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic
Genre: M/M, m!Revan, mentions of Canderous/Revan, mentions of Revan/Carth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 06:10:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9706637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filigranka/pseuds/Filigranka
Summary: Canderous takes care of Revan's mess.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [linndechir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/linndechir/gifts).



Canderous didn’t love Revan. What he felt for that man—the commander, the general, the soldier, excellent in all of those roles—was far more than some stupid sentiment. It was pure awe, pure devotion, pure faith.

That meant he sometimes had to clean up Revan’s mess. Had the honour of cleaning up Revan’s mess.

‘You know, Carth,’ Canderous took a wet cloth and began washing the blood off the soldier’s body, ‘if you ever apologised for your betrayal and begged Revan for mercy, he would probably let you die. If you swore loyalty, he might even let you serve under him again. If you at least didn’t irritate him so much,’ he added, scrubbing the blood off Carth’s thighs, thighs branded not by honourable scars of battles, but shameful signs of enslavement, ‘he would simply hit you once or twice and fuck you. I respect your wish for death, but this tactics won’t work. Apologies might.’

Carth was silent, just wincing through Canderous’ whole speech. Not surprising, considering the bruises on his neck and face and bloody smashed lips. He had probably tried to convince Revan to renounce the Dark Side and stop the conquest of the Republic. Again.

Stubbornness was an admirable trait, normally, but there was a difference between the stubbornness of a warrior and delusional stupidity. Carth’s current behaviour belonged to the second category. And his silence forced Canderous to speak—there was something in the atmosphere of Carth’s cell on that spaceship, spacious and technically comfortable, but empty and cold, and stinking of madness-inducting loneliness, that made humans… talkative. Yet Onasi usually stayed quiet, except for screaming. Another admirable trait. Another terrible, foolish waste.

‘Like I said, you betrayed him. He has every right to be angry.’ During their journey Revan had tried, so many times, to listen to Carth’s whining, to act fair and _be nice_ to weak people—and this Republic soldier spat on all that effort, all of their friendship, because of some Senate and political system. And an ineffective, meek, useless system at that. Yet Carth valued it over Revan’s effective, strong, functioning rule.

Such a nonsense. Canderous still felt a tide of rage even thinking about that. Revan had defended the Republic, twice even. He had every right to rule it.

Although, to be honest, Canderous wasn’t—couldn’t be—totally sure if the emotions were his. Revan tended to… stay in his mind, often, sometimes for a whole day. Not necessarily forcing him to do anything, just being there. A steady, powerful presence. Cold, always calculating, and yet so very fond. Canderous found it comforting, but—the connection seemed to work both ways, sort of. Revan’s moods and feelings, especially the long-lasting ones, slipped into Canderous’ mind, blurring the lines between their consciousnesses.

Only partially, of course. He would never dream—dare to dream—of being Revan’s equal. He didn’t want to.

Carth dared and wanted. That seemed unforgivable, even if Canderous thought, personally, that swift death would be a better, more honourable punishment for a good soldier and a fallen comrade.

Carth’s voice broke into his thoughts, surprising him.

‘If you really care, you might kill me yourself. But oh, wait, Revan _forbids_ you.’ The voice was dripping with unexpected venom; imprisonment had taken its toll on the Republic’ little soldier, made him less thoughtful. ‘And you, being a proud warrior, listen to him like some backwater slave—’

Canderous throttled him. He tightened his grip really hard before Carth’s instincts finally kicked in and he started fighting for breath, his body jerking, his legs kicking weakly and his fingers desperately slipping over Canderous’ hands and arms.

Almost erotic. Erotic enough for Canderous. He leaned and put his mouth on Carth’s already slightly bluish one, enjoying the desperate moves of the tongue and lips, seizing the last bit of his breath.

Normally Canderous would not satisfy himself with such a substitute—he would fuck Carth, hard and long, if only as a payment for cleaning the wounds—but that would be unwise after Revan’s previous treatment. He could break Carth too much, too far, too soon. And Revan didn’t want his tin soldier dead, not yet.

So Canderous unclenched his hands with a sigh, half-disappointed, half-aroused. Carth turned on his side, coughing and wheezing—and Canderous couldn’t stop himself from giving him a few hard slaps on his butt. Thumping was what one should do in case of coughing fits, after all. Thumping a little higher, perhaps, but Canderous was never one to mindlessly follow regulations. Revan didn’t mind them, too. That was the source of his genius.

‘I quite like your will to fight,’ Canderous said over the coughing, looking at the slightly red marks on Carth’s buttocks with a satisfied smile. Red on butt, red on face and neck—Carth looked quite nicely. ‘The only redeemable trait of this Republic of yours. Like all Republic things, it is fruitless, but at least it’s an action. Although,’ he added, getting up from the bed and throwing the used cloths into an automatic rubbish-chute, ‘I’m disappointed by your show. You eat well, sleep on a clean bed, get treatment for your wounds… Most prisoners would call such conditions a “luxury”. And yet, not even a iota of strength a soldier of the Republic should manage.’

Carth’s eyes immediately became dull and lifeless, like a broken blaster. No energy left. He tried to say something, but his throat was too hoarse and he just broke down into another fit of coughing. Pathetic, Canderous thought, not even worth of Revan’s wrath—then the door closed behind him, with a low hiss, and Revan’s _voice-feeling-need_ , powerful in his mind _urged-commanded-tempted_ him to come to the bridge.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my beta, Basylia.


End file.
